


Just out of reach

by okeydokey (LilMissNerdfighter)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is a Prat, Author doesn't really know what they're talking about, Everything is cliched, Gwaine and Leon are just there to provide alcohol, Knight AU, M/M, Magic Reveal, Merlin is a training to be a knight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:51:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilMissNerdfighter/pseuds/okeydokey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's dream had always been to become a knight, but the moment he comes close to achieving it, the biggest prat to ever live shows up in his dreams as well. Will Merlin be able to choose between the knights and love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just out of reach

Ever since he was little, Merlin had wanted to be a Knight of Camelot. He would see the knights riding through the streets from his bedroom window and dream of being beside them, brave and strong and invincible. He knew that if he could just become a knight, then everything would be perfect. He would have brothers and would never be alone again. They would accept him as he was, magic and all, and together they would protect people. He would learn how to defend the innocent and defeat the evil. He would spend his days laughing and helping people. Being a knight meant everything to Merlin.

As he grew up, Merlin realised that being a knight was dangerous; knights weren’t invulnerable and often died. But that did not deter him. It was a tiny insignificant detail. Merlin practised fighting with the other boys, and fell asleep listening to the stories his mother told of his father, who died defending a village. Merlin’s father had had magic too, back when it wasn’t illegal. The tales of his fearless father kept Merlin going, even when it seemed impossible.

He might’ve been small and clumsy, but that made him unpredictable. Merlin learnt very quickly that he could use his size to his advantage during combat. People tended to underestimate him. That, combined with his magic, made him very difficult to fight. He spent hundreds of nights practising his magic, until he was confident that he had it under control. He had had a few close scrapes, but he knew he could make it do his will. He didn’t often use it when duelling though, it felt like cheating. He hated that he had to keep his magic hidden, but he was sure that the King had his reasons for banning it. It was not the place of a knight to question his leader.

**

The sound of Morris (a servant from the castle) yelling on the other side of the training grounds made Merlin dismount and come running. Morris had always been a bit of an idiot and Merlin wasn’t particularly fond of the man, but he generally kept out trouble. Which meant the sight of a blonde knight throwing daggers at him, as he ran with a target, was completely out of the ordinary. What made it worse was that a group of other knights were just standing around, watching, laughing. Merlin wasn’t a knight- not yet anyway- but it was obvious that what they were doing was wrong. Surely they should be stopping the blonde bully, rather than encouraging him?

‘Do you want some moving target practice?’ The man yelled. His voice was vaguely familiar, but not so much that it bothered Merlin. He was sure that he’d remember coming into contact with someone who was such an ass.

Merlin reached Morris and the knights just in time to see Morris drop the target. The knight still advanced, and the others still did nothing to stop him.

‘Hey, come on, that’s enough!’ Merlin yelled, putting a foot on the target so Morris couldn’t pick it up again. He made a vague shooing motion in Morris’ direction, and he fled with a grateful smile.

‘What?’ The prat said, eyes meeting Merlin’s, full of anger. It was a shame, Merlin mused, they would’ve been gorgeous if they weren’t so full of fury. There was definitely something familiar about those eyes, Merlin decided, resolving to find out who exactly he was the moment after he stopped him.

‘You’ve had your fun, my friend.’ Merlin told him, kicking the target to one side.

‘Do I know you?’

‘Er, I’m Merlin. I’m training to be a knight.’ He held out his hand, but wasn’t surprised when the man didn’t shake it. The man opened his mouth, probably to say something about respecting his superiors, but Merlin cut him off. Merlin knew he should’ve left it there, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. It was just one of those days.  ‘So, I know that you have just broken the Knights’ Code.’

‘Oh have I really?’ The man replied incredulously. There was a challenge barely concealed in his words, and Merlin never had been able to resist a challenge.

‘Yes. There’s probably a section about being an ass somewhere too, which no doubt was written just for you. Somebody really needs to teach you a lesson.’ Merlin replied, without thinking. The man’s hand moved towards his dagger and Merlin tensed. His mother was right; he really needed to watch his mouth.

‘Oh really, Merlin? Are you _volunteering_?’ A smirk had now appeared on the man’s face, and Merlin could see exactly how the scene was going to play out. It seemed that everyone else could too. There was a crowd gathering, holding their breath, waiting to hear his response.

‘Maybe.’

‘Be my guest! Come on! Come on! Come oooooon.’ The prat was laughing now, and didn’t that just make Merlin’s blood boil. Merlin imagined what the man’s reaction would be if he used his magic to throw him backwards. The idea was so tempting, but he couldn’t- revealing himself as a sorcerer was not on his to-do list, and it really wouldn’t help him become a knight. If Merlin was honest, the entire ordeal was not exactly helpful. Still, there was no way he was backing down now. Maybe the clot would at least remember this the next time he considered bullying a servant.

Not giving himself time to back  down, Merlin did the only thing he could do. He swung a punch, aiming for the prat’s face. It connected for a brief second, flushing the point of contact red, before the man grabbed Merlin’s arm, twisting it behind his back. Merlin suppressed a hiss of pain. If there was one thing he’d learnt from training, it was to never let your opponent know that they had hurt you. Besides, he had at least made some kind of impact. Hopefully it would at least leave a nice bruise on the bully’s face.

‘I'll have you thrown in jail for that. You’ll never become a knight.’ The man growled. Merlin winced before realising that the only way he could guarantee that was if he was royalty.

‘What, who do you think you are? The King?’ Merlin smirked, calculating what it would take to wrestle his arm free and knock the man to his knees. He knew he could do it; he was stronger than he looked. All he needed was brief distraction.

‘No. I'm his son, Arthur.’ The man spat back, taking Merlin out at the knees and thwarting Merlin’s plans simultaneously.

Merlin’s only thought as guards escorted him away was: Well, I completely fucked that one up, didn’t I?

**

A hundred hours of ‘community service’ later (which actually involved acting as a general dogsbody and occasionally helping out Gaius, the court physician); Merlin was allowed to resume his training. It took at least eighty of those hours to decide that it wasn’t Prince Arthur’s fault that he was such a dolt; there was probably something in the castle’s water supply. Or it was some kind of rare disease he had contracted. Merlin’s time helping Gaius had taught him that there were quite a lot of those in Camelot.

So, in a way, it turned out that having his training suspended for a little while wasn’t such a bad thing. Especially as it seemed Prince Arthur had taken it upon himself to decide who was worthy enough to become a knight. Before it had been the Prince’s second-in-command who the trainees fought in order to join the knights, but now it was Prince Arthur himself.  It was just as well Merlin had dropped his vendetta against the Prince for the time being, really.

‘Left, right, left! C’mon! Quicker!’ Prince Arthur was yelling at them as they went through a new drill. Merlin kept up with the others, perfectly in time. He had long since learnt to control his clumsiness, and besides, the drill was easy enough. He had been watching the knights for as long as he could remember, and so knew the gist of every drill. Nobody paid attention to little boys mimicking soldiers; children are no threat.  It was always worth the extra sweat to see the flash of anger in Prince Arthur’s eyes when Merlin perfectly completed an exercise. He was just waiting for Merlin to trip up, to fail. But Merlin was not going to give that arrogant prat the satisfaction.

When the King oversees training one day, Merlin can feel his eyes on him. Despite the added pressure, he pulls through okay, and knows that he has done just as well as everyone else. It’s a relief that Merlin has been waiting for the days that follow since he was little, because he might have quit otherwise. Some days it feels like he is being tortured. Still, he perseveres, mostly because at the end of the tunnel is his dream, but a little because he wants to see the look on Prince Arthur’s face when he succeeds and becomes a knight. 

Despite this, Merlin isn’t going to pretend that he doesn’t seriously consider giving up and becoming a hermit when he hears that King Uther has recommended him for private training sessions with Prince Arthur in order to ‘achieve his full potential’. It seems to Merlin that the entire Pendragon family has embarked on some twisted mission to drive him out of Camelot through prolonged exposure to the biggest prat ever to live.

**

They’ve been sparring for twenty minutes before Arthur concedes. Or at least that’s what he calls it; it’s more like he’s allowing Merlin a quick break before attacking him again. Merlin aches all over, but has learnt not to complain- Gaius has told him off more than once for complaining in the past week, he is ‘very lucky to get training from the Prince’. It depends on how many times he has been defeated that day whether or not Merlin agrees with him. But there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that he has been ‘killed’ a lot less recently, and has even beaten Arthur once or twice. Maybe Arthur is helping him, Merlin admits to himself, as the swords are returned to their sheaths.

‘You’re improving,’ Arthur mutters, not looking at Merlin, as they lean against a fence, drinking from water skins.

‘Sorry, can you say that again- I didn’t quite catch that the first time.’ Merlin grins, catching Arthur’s eye over the top of the skin. Arthur shakes his head, squinting in the sunlight.

‘You heard me the first time; I’m not saying it again.’ But he’s smirking and when he elbows Merlin in the ribs, his eyes are full of something which looks suspiciously like affection.

As Merlin lies in bed that night, running through the day’s training, his mind keeps flicking back to the moments in between fighting. He’s given up pretending that he doesn’t enjoy those moments. If he’s honest, those snatches of laughter, no matter how brief, are the reason he keeps training with Arthur. The fact that Prince Arthur has become Arthur would’ve horrified him weeks ago, but now it seems natural.

Arthur is a friend now, no matter how hard Merlin finds it to admit it to himself. He is as much a friend as Gwaine or Leon are. It might have happened slowly and then all at once, but he can’t imagine life without Arthur’s sarcasm and compliments disguised as insults. Somehow, without even trying, Arthur has shaken up Merlin’s life so much that he’s not sure he’s the same person he was two months ago. He has quickly claimed Merlin’s loyalty and Merlin is sure that he would die for Arthur in a heartbeat. Sure, it terrifies him, but he has accepted that Arthur (despite being a huge dollop head) is someone worth following.

And if Merlin’s dreams of riding with the knights, of sunshine, adrenaline and helping people, are punctuated with Arthur’s laughter and flashes of his smile, then who’s to know?

**

‘You can do this,’ Arthur tells him. Merlin isn’t sure if the recent death of some of his knights is the reason Arthur is so solemn, or if it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s something else- Merlin’s never sure what brings these moods on. They are sitting in an alcove in the castle, their backs pressed up against the stone walls. It’s no secret that Arthur hates being surrounded constantly by guards, the way he always is in his rooms or anywhere he is _supposed_ to be. So, when Arthur has the evening off, he can always be found sitting in a barely used corridor, concealed in a corner. That is something only Merlin knows about him. It’s one of those rare evenings when they both have no obligations to attend to, and so they are hiding from the world in Arthur’s favourite corner. And if they begin the evening sitting closer together than strictly necessary, it can be blamed on the chill that flows through the hallways.

It’s the night before Merlin’s final test, the battle which will decide whether or not he becomes a knight, so he’s not drinking and probably should’ve been in bed long ago. Instead, he has spent the past two hours listening to Arthur talk, and sitting in silence with him when the words have run out. Merlin knows that he could’ve filled the silence with jokes or with mundane gossip, but he also knows that that is not what Arthur needs right now. So, he doesn’t say anything when Arthur lies down and rests his head on Merlin’s lap, instead electing to run his hand through Arthur’s hair.

Arthur has talked about how he feels responsible for every little thing that goes wrong in the kingdom, how he knows he disappoints his father and how he worries he won’t be a good king when the time comes. No matter how much he disagrees, Merlin doesn’t interrupt. Instead he continues to play with Arthur’s hair and tries to let him know through this gesture that everything will be okay.

When Arthur begins to speak again, it startles Merlin a little. Arthur had been silent for nearly twenty minutes and Merlin had been sure he had drifted off the sleep. It seems he has more to say, however, so Merlin lets him.

‘I know the test has been moved forward- that you were supposed to have more time.’ Merlin shrugs, even though in the semi-lit alcove Arthur can’t possibly see it. ‘But Merlin, you don’t need more time. You can do this. You’re going to be one of the best knights Camelot will have seen.’ Merlin can hear the smile in Arthur’s voice, which is followed quickly by a yawn. ‘I won’t go easy on you tomorrow, but you don’t need me to. It would be an insult to not fight you properly.’

In the long, but comfortable, silence that follows, Merlin’s eyes slip closed. He continues to run his fingers through Arthur’s hair as his breathing slows. Leaning his head against the wall, he feels himself slipping out of consciousness. The last thing he hears is a clear, if sleepy, voice say:

‘I believe in you, Merlin.’

**

‘I did it!’ Merlin laughed, dancing around his tent. ‘I’m actually going to be a knight!’ His entire life had been building up to this moment, or so it seemed. He was actually glowing and he felt as if he could fly. If he tried hard enough, there was no doubt in his mind that he could do anything. In a few short hours, he was going to be a knight. Not because of his magic or his father or anything other than his ability. He had fought Arthur and won. Arthur had promised not to go easy on him and he had still beaten him.

There was the rustling of the tent walls, and the side pulled back to reveal a grinning Arthur. He winked at Merlin, striding into the tent. So wrapped up in his euphoria, Merlin threw his arms around Arthur, pulling him close. Arthur stiffened for a moment before returning the hug. They stood there for a few moments, just holding each other, before Arthur pulled away slightly, still keeping his arms around Merlin. It feels right, to be standing here with Arthur, Merlin decides. Today is a day for victories and having Arthur here with him, like this, is another one.

‘Well done, Merlin. You really deserve this.’ Arthur said earnestly, for once not looking as though paying Merlin a compliment physically hurt him. Merlin grinned back, his smile lighting up his face.

‘Thank you- I couldn’t have done it without you.’ His response was quieter then intended, and it made the tent feel smaller.

Arthur opened his mouth, as if to reply with a sarcastic comment, but seemed to think better of it. It was only then when Merlin realised how close they were standing. He dropped his gaze to Arthur’s lips, just for one fleeting second, and when he looked back up, something had changed in Arthur’s eyes. 

‘Merlin-‘ He began, leaning forward slightly. Merlin’s breath hitched and his eyes slipped closed as their lips met. Arthur’s lips were warm, and after the initial shock, Merlin leaned into the kiss. His fingers found their way into Arthur’s hair and Arthur pulled him closer. Merlin felt like he was on fire, and was pretty sure that this was an alternative to being burnt at the stake for sorcery. This had never been part of his dreams when he was younger (no, the young prince had never featured, not even as a friend, he was too distant then), but Merlin found that he welcomed this change.

All too soon he came to his senses. This was Prince Arthur- not to mention Merlin’s best friend- and he was _kissing_ him. They were just lost in the moment that was all; Merlin told himself, what he was feeling wasn’t real. Arthur had his royalty and Merlin had the Knights now. Arthur did not need Merlin, almost a knight or not. They had to stop now, before Merlin threw his heart away and joined the long queue of people who were in love with Arthur.

So, Merlin pulled away, quickly detangling himself from Arthur- Prince Arthur’s arms, avoiding eye contact. He bowed respectfully, mumbling a hurried, ‘excuse me, sire’ before running out of the tent, in search of Gwaine and alcohol.

**

There were two pairs of arms holding him up, looped round his waist, taking his weight. His legs were weak beneath him; Merlin wasn’t confident he could stand, let alone walk. He wasn’t ready to admit that the alcohol was a bad idea though- it had prevented him from thinking about much more than ordinarily automatic motions. One foot in front of the other: left, right, left.

Leon was laughing with Gwaine about how much of a lightweight Merlin was; about how if he was to become a good knight, he was going to have to learn to drink. Merlin was grateful he didn’t have to respond- he wasn’t sure he could, actually. A combination of alcohol and the thing –the kiss- with Arthur earlier had rendered him incapable of much more than one thought process. Left, right, left. Merlin ran his tongue over his lips, surprised that the taste of Arthur still lingered there, mixed with the beer. He’d have thought that he’d drunk enough to wash it away. Apparently not. 

‘Merlin!’ A man yelled from behind them, breaking through Merlin’s drunken haze.

He stumbled, hearing the echo of Arthur’s voice. Leon and Gwaine didn’t hear it, barely pausing to pull him upright. Had the voice only been in his head? Merlin sighed; Arthur had actually driven him to the brink of insanity.

‘C’mon, we’re nearly home.’ Leon told him, as Gwaine rolled his eyes. Merlin could hear the smirk in his voice. Even that reminded him of Arthur. Prat.  How dare he invade Merlin’s head? Did he think that just because he was a prince he could take over every little thing Merlin was; everything he did and thought and could be, and twist it so everything was centred around him? Maybe not, but it still had happened, hadn’t it? What a clot pole.

‘Merlin!’

There he was again. Couldn’t he just leave him alone? Maybe if he just focused on walking, he could forget the sound of Arthur’s voice, just for a little while. Left, right, left. Merlin tried to keep moving, but Gwaine and Leon had stopped. They turned, and stopped speaking. Merlin could hear the sound of footsteps approaching. He hurriedly dropped his gaze to the ground, switching his focus from walking to breathing and wishing desperately that whoever had stopped Leon and Gwaine would go away. Now. Please.

‘Good evening, sire.’ Leon and Gwaine said in unison, still not letting go of Merlin’s arms. As much as Merlin wanted to run, he couldn’t.

‘Good evening.’ Arthur replied solemnly. ‘Merlin, can I speak to you for a minute? Alone.’

Shit. Everything inside Merlin went into panic mode- he was suddenly all too sober. He silently willed Gwaine to provide him with some form of excuse. What was the point of magic if he couldn’t telepathically ask his friends to help him out? Leon nudged him slightly, trying to provoke some form of response. Merlin remained silent, staring at the floor.

‘Sorry, Arthur- we’ve got to get him home. He really can’t handle his drink.’ Gwaine told Arthur apologetically. ‘The idiot can’t even walk properly.’ He teased, and Merlin could feel both Arthur and Gwaine’s eyes on him. In any other situation he would’ve shot back some sort of retort, but it really wasn’t the right time. Instead he groaned as convincingly as possible and let his knees buckle. Gwaine and Leon pulled him back to his feet, not laughing this time.

‘Gwaine’s right,’ Leon agreed. ‘He might actually be a danger to the people if he’s kept out in public much longer.’ Merlin smiled; he’d known his friends would help him out- even if it did mean insulting him. Now, all Arthur needed to do was take the hint.

‘It’ll only take a minute, you have my word.’ Arthur insisted. ‘I just need to discuss something with him- it’s important. Then you can have him back. I wouldn’t want him hurting anyone.’ There was a hint of affection in his voice, which made Merlin want to hold onto him and never let go. But he couldn’t. Obviously.

Merlin willed the knights to protest, to question their leader, to demand that they take him back immediately. After all, what was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning? However, he could feel them letting him go, slowly standing him back on his own two feet.

‘We’ll meet you back at home- will you be okay?’ Gwaine asked, keeping one hand on his shoulder. Merlin wanted to shake his head and demand that they take him back right now. Surely there was something about not abandoning the intoxicated in the Knights’ Code of Chivalry? Instead he nodded and avoided eye contact. After all, they weren’t to know they were throwing him to the lions, were they? So, with one final clap on the shoulder, they were gone, leaving him alone with Arthur.

‘Merlin,’ Arthur began, his voice quiet and a little unsteady. The Prince was gone, the illusion leaving with the knights. Here stood Arthur; just another man trying to find his way in the world. Merlin wondered if Arthur knew that this was who he had fallen for, not the powerful, arrogant leader. Probably not, Arthur had always been a bit dim. ‘I wanted to apologise. My actions earlier were… misjudged and out of line. I should not have taken advantage of you- I misunderstood. I’m… sorry. I hope we can still be friends.’

‘I bet that really hurt, huh? Apologising?’ Merlin smirked, defaulting to teasing Arthur, as he always did when he didn’t know how to respond to something he had said. A brief flicker of surprise appeared across Arthur’s face, before he grudgingly admitted:

‘Yeah… Don’t get used to it, you won’t be getting another one any time soon…’ They stood there in silence for a few moments, close enough that they were almost breathing in each other. Merlin knew that it was his turn to say something; to accept the apology and carry on as before or to throw it back in Arthur’s face. Neither option seemed particularly appealing.

Words from the Code of Chivalry bounced around Merlin’s head, in what sounded suspiciously like Morgana’s voice: _Honour, Honesty, Valour and Loyalty._ Oh for gods’ sakes, Merlin thought, shifting from one foot to the other. If he was going to be a knight, he might as well start off immediately.

‘You didn’t have to say sorry.’ Merlin told him, trying to put everything he felt into words. Arthur’s eyes snapped up to meet his, and Merlin became aware of how much he had missed seeing their blue. Wow, that was a bit pathetic, Merlin shook his head a little, astonished by his own thoughts. Arthur looked at him in confusion and Merlin supressed a sigh.  Honesty was going to be a lot more difficult than the Code made it sound.

‘I don’t understand?’

‘You don’t have to apologise, because… Because you didn’t misunderstand. I like you, Arthur. And the idea of you kissing me doesn’t repulse me quite as much as it once did. Besides, if you’d taken advantage of me, you’d have a broken nose now- Prince or not.’

Arthur’s confused expression was replaced by a mildly hopeful one, and now he was smiling. Not his arrogant I-am-so-much-better-than-you smirk, or the smoulder he used to get unsuspecting maids to do his bidding, but a warm, happy grin, which recently Merlin had learnt was reserved just for him. Gods, that smile was distracting. Merlin found that he was smiling too and his reasons for not kissing Arthur there and then were rapidly evaporating.

‘So, if I do this,’ Arthur bent and pecked Merlin on the cheek, ‘then that’s okay?’

‘Mmm, I suppose so.’ Merlin bit back a smile, bringing a hand up to rest on Arthur’s chest. Arthur’s eyes are almost glowing in a way which makes him look a million times more attractive than should be legal. So, it’s unsurprising when Merlin gives up, tangles his fingers in Arthur’s hair and kisses him in a way which would make even Gwaine blush.

When they finally come up for air, Merlin’s magic is singing and Arthur is wearing a ridiculously smug expression. This time, Merlin doesn’t bother trying to pull away, doesn’t want to pull away. Arthur is shining in the cracked darkness and Merlin is sure that the happiness he can see in Arthur’s eyes is mirrored in his expression.

They stand like that, wrapped in the dark and each other’s arms for the longest time, until Merlin is convinced he has stopped time by accident without noticing ( _again)._ He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Arthur’s.

‘I could stay like this forever.’ He admits, almost sad that the silence is broken. He can feel Arthur nodding almost thoughtfully. Another long pause follows and it seems to Merlin that this is how their relationship has always been; long silences in which more is said than when they talk for hours. More is said in the gaps between the quiet than in a thousand joking insults and teasing remarks.

A group of laughing men pass by, not seeing Merlin and Arthur standing frozen in the shadows, shattering the illusion that Camelot belongs to them; there are thousands of other people surrounding them. Arthur is the first to move back in the direction of the citadel, but in the end they walk side by side, hand in hand. It is only when they reach the citadel that they stop, reluctantly releasing each other.

‘I have to get back- if I don’t, the others will probably assume you’ve killed me and hidden the body,’ Merlin offers Arthur a small smile, shifting slightly to glance over his shoulder at his home.

‘Yeah, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.’  Arthur agreed, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

‘Well, good night.’ 

‘Good night.’ Merlin watched as Arthur walked away, able to map out the route he’d take to reach his room. He knows how long it will take and where Arthur is likely to pause. He knows the places where Arthur will be able to see Merlin standing, trying to work out how to get his feet to move. Arthur will be so close all night and yet so far away and doesn’t that just kill him?

That’s when Merlin realises that he can’t just let Arthur walk away. Because there will always be something that gets in the way. There will be more ceremonies and patrols and banquets tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. It will always be a ‘big day’ tomorrow.

And so Merlin (in what he will later admit is a horribly clichéd move) runs after Arthur (who has been walking at a snail’s pace), grabs his arm and pulls him for another kiss.

‘Long time, no see.’ Arthur grins, resting their foreheads together.

‘I could say the same to you.’

Arthur pokes him in the chest and Merlin returns the gesture. Then Arthur grabs his hand and they stumble towards Arthur’s chambers. Their laughter is too loud for the night, but the more they try and silence it with clumsy kisses, the louder it seems to get. By the time they reach Arthur’s chambers, Merlin is almost certain they have woken half the citadel.

Laughter, Merlin decides later, as he sleepily watches the sun rise, Arthur lying beside him, is the only way to start a big day.

**

It’s been over a month since Merlin was knighted and almost everyone knows that Arthur and Merlin are completely infatuated with each other (except Uther, who remains painfully oblivious). They had tried to keep it a secret for a little while, but somewhere between Arthur being stabbed and Merlin threatening to impale anyone who tried to remove him from Arthur’s bedside, the news of their relationship spread like a wildfire. Arthur had laughed, saying that he hoped their secret keeping improved by the time he became king. Merlin had told Arthur to shut up and stop moving because I am _trying_ to change your bandages, for fucks sake, do you have a death wish?

‘Arthur, there’s something I have to tell you.’ They are lying in their (Arthur’s) bed, Merlin’s head on Arthur’s chest, the sunlight streaming in through the window. People had learnt to knock very quickly since Merlin started spending nights in Arthur’s room (Merlin still can’t make eye contact with George without wanting the ground to swallow him).

‘Mm?’ Arthur replied sleepily, peering at him through bleary eyes.

‘Do you promise not to freak out?’ Merlin asked; awake enough for the both of them.

‘Merlin, in the past week alone, I have discovered that you can survive on three hours sleep and still be painfully cheerful, that you once kissed Morgana on a dare from _Guinevere_ and that you are not ticklish anywhere. You’re also a _morning_ person- which I still can’t understand- I think if I was going to freak out, I would’ve done so already.’

‘Please, Arthur, seriously.’ Merlin burying his head in the mattress, trying not to completely chicken out. _Honour, Honesty, Valour and Loyalty. Left, right, left._ He could do this. Besides, it was only Arthur. As if providing some form of encouragement, Arthur ran a hand through Merlin’s hair, smiling when he pressed his head into his palm.

‘Okay. I promise.’

‘I love you, you know?’

‘Yes, I know. I love you too.’ Arthur paused, shuffling down the bed so that he was at eye level with Merlin. He didn’t complain that his feet were hanging off the end, as he so often did. ‘Just tell me- you’re kinda freaking me out now.’

‘Fuck. Umm…’ Merlin screwed up his courage, making sure he was looking straight into Arthur’s eyes. They gave him courage now; he supposed they always had, even when he was fighting with him. ‘I have magic.’

There, he’d said it.

‘Ha ha, very funny.’ Arthur said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Now, seriously, tell me. Was it you who broke that crossbow?’ Merlin bit his lip, shook his head and waited for what he had said to sink in. Three, two, one. A flash of shock, followed quickly by anger, danced across Arthur’s face, before settling on disbelief. ‘Hang on, you’re serious?’

Merlin nodded, taking it as a good sign that Arthur hadn’t a) moved away and b) hadn’t called the guards. Arthur’s eyes flickered closed and it was his turn to bury his head in the mattress.

‘Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with the daughter of some random nobleman, had three kids and died knowing that I didn’t do anything spectacular during my reign, but that I had done all that was expected of me? Gods, why did you have to come along? My life was so much easier before you turned up and stopped me throwing knives at that servant!’ Arthur yelled, his voice muffled by the mattress. Merlin sat up, pulling on his shirt and slipping on his shoes.

‘I’m sorry,’ Merlin whispered, rising from the mattress. There was a lump in his throat threatening to choke him, but now was not the time for tears, they would come later. Now was the time to get away from the battle and let Arthur clear his head. These tactics had been drummed into his head for months now. He’d just never thought he’d have to use them against Arthur. ‘I wanted to tell you sooner, I really did.’

‘Then why didn’t you?’ Arthur’s words were bitter, angry, tinged with disappointment and hurt. Merlin didn’t blame him. He kind of hated himself too.

‘I thought… I was worried… I didn’t want to make you choose between Camelot and me.’

‘Why now?’ Arthur’s voice was softer now, and that tore at Merlin’s heart more than the anger. Fuck, he was an awful person.

‘It was killing me not telling you. I hate keeping secrets from you.’

‘Gods, Merlin. What am I supposed to do now?’

‘I don’t know…’ Merlin admitted. The tears were threatening to make an appearance. Fantastic, just what he needed. He wanted so badly to turn, to look at Arthur, but he was so afraid. Well done, Merlin, what a top class knight you are, growled a voice in his head. It sounded like Arthur, when he barely knew him and he was still a world class prat. It’s thanks to you he’s not such an ass now, another part of him argued. Merlin wished both of them would shut up.

Arthur didn’t say anything, and Merlin couldn’t bring himself to speak. So the silence returned. Then a hand gripped his wrist, pulling him back to bed.

‘Get back here. Now.’

Merlin willingly let it guide him back, breathing a little easier.

‘Shoes off. I will not have shoes in our bed.’  Arthur growled. Merlin kicked his shoes off, hearing them hit the door. He turned to face Arthur and then he’s being attacked. Arthur’s lips are greedy and Merlin can feel his anger and hurt disappearing with every kiss. He really will have to talk to Arthur about how kissing really doesn’t resolve problems, but right now they aren’t doing much- any- talking.

**

It was much later when they finally started speaking in coherent sentences. They both missed training and Merlin was pretty sure that at least three people knocked on the door since their argument. Never mind, Merlin’s sure they can cope without their prince for a little while longer.

‘You really are an idiot, you know that.’ Arthur said, pulling on his shirt. Merlin rolled his eyes, searching for his shoe on the other side of the room. ‘I’m not going to have you arrested- even if I am still kinda cross with you.’

‘Is that so?’ Merlin replied, finding his shoe and holding it up triumphantly.

‘Yeah, it’d damage my reputation. Besides, there aren’t any noblewomen with ears quite as impressive as yours.’ Arthur smiled, cheerfully ignoring Merlin’s half-hearted scowl.

‘I hate you.’

‘I love you too.’

**

‘I hereby decree that magic is no longer, and will never be, illegal in Camelot. All those with magic, who continue to abide by the law, will be allowed to live peacefully and shall never be punished for their skills.’ Arthur proclaimed supressing a smile as his people cheered. It was common knowledge that he had been trying to have the law changed ever since his coronation, and so the people had long since made their peace with the idea.

Arthur looked to his left side, and as always, there stood Merlin. Merlin slipped his hand into his and winked at him.

‘Long Live the King!’ Merlin yelled, beginning the chant as he often did these days. And, as always, the chanting was mixed with laughter and extra cheering, because Arthur often felt the need to kiss or poke (or sometimes both) Merlin during the chanting. Arthur was slowly destroying every single illusion the citizens of Camelot had about the Pendragons and the world they were living in. He had started with allowing (what his father would’ve called) ‘commoners’ to join the knights and had quickly progressed to abolishing every rule he deemed unfair or just plain unnecessary. The magic ban was just one of many.

As the roaring of Arthur’s people filled his ears, Merlin yelled himself hoarse, squeezing Arthur’s hand.  Arthur laughed, and Merlin grinned, hearing the sound echoed through the city. Dreams, he decided, were never quite as out of reach as he had once thought.


End file.
